A Warrior's Bride by Margaret Moore

Author:Margaret Moore
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin Treasury
Published: 2011-06-20T04:00:00+00:00

“Sir George, forgive me if I am disturbing you...”

George awoke with a start and a snort. “What?” he demanded. He rubbed his bleary eyes and saw Herbert Jolliet standing before him in his solar.

He must have fallen asleep here after a short, but swift, gallop over the fields in Aileas’s wake. Fortunately, she had taken pity on either him or his horse, or perhaps herself, for she had slowed as soon as they entered the wood.

How lovely she had looked, astride her horse like some kind of Amazon, her face glowing, her eyes bright. They had talked of her brothers, all six of them, from the oldest, who was twenty years her senior, to the youngest, only one year older than she and nicknamed Snout, because he had a tendency to snoop. No secret was safe around him, and in self-defense, she explained, she had learned to keep very close counsel.

She was so delightfully frank and open, a wonderful contrast to women who simpered and smiled too much. Even with Margot, he often sensed that she was talking only to tell him what she assumed he wanted to hear, not what she really thought.

Then they had stopped and sat beneath a large oak tree and... He smiled at the memory of their heated passion and covered his secretive smile by rubbing his chin. They had stopped short of making love, however, because the ground was too rocky.

He regarded his grave steward. Upon returning to Ravensloft, he had suggested to Aileas that she would find Herbert with either the pantler or the bottler, and that he was probably anxious to discuss the state of the food stores with her. She had nodded and walked off toward the larder, he had retired to his solar—and promptly nodded off.

“What is it?” George asked, wide-awake now and quite certain that some kind of domestic catastrophe was responsible for this uncharacteristic behavior. Herbert wasn’t the kind of man to wake his lord, even during the day, unless there was an emergency that required his immediate guidance.

“My lord, James was just telling me that the wine merchant from Venice is going to be here soon. Unfortunately, James has heard that his prices have increased again, due to some very unfortunate weather in Italy this past year.”

“You’re speaking of Guido Valleduce?” George asked, relieved that his steward’s concern was of no great import, yet puzzled as to why Herbert had come to him at all over this.

“Exactly, my lord.”

“Then pay the extra. His wine is always excellent.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Herbert replied with a small bow. “Also, Lady Margot sends her regrets that she will be unable to join you in the hall this evening. She says she is too tired from the feasting and begs to be excused.”

George nodded, still confused as to why Herbert, was here. “Of course. Make sure Elma or one of the other servants takes her something to eat. She likes bread and cheese and a little mulled wine for a light supper, if memory serves.

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